


The Serpent and the Wolf

by notcool



Series: Show Me Your Darkness (Sanders Sides Fantasy AU) [4]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Demons, First Meetings, Gen, Legends, Light Angst, Werewolves, sorta?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:41:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27520957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notcool/pseuds/notcool
Summary: Janus wasn't always like... well, this. Not properly a monster, but still certainly not human. Remy wasn't always like that either. It can be confusing, not really fitting into either world.Janus is the first nonhuman Remy has properly met since he was turned, and though their paths cross only briefly, the interaction reminds Remy of what is, what he isn't, and why he doesn't have to follow the human rules.
Relationships: Deceit | Janus Sanders & Sleep | Remy Sanders
Series: Show Me Your Darkness (Sanders Sides Fantasy AU) [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1980931
Comments: 4
Kudos: 32





	1. Middle of Nowhere

**Author's Note:**

> I legit have no idea what I'm doing anymore. One minute I'm like "oh let's just make a little fantasy au oneshot" and next thing I know I'm sitting bolt upright at one am because /backstory/

_ "Draw a monster. Why is it a monster?" _

_ \- Janice Lee _

\-------

Somewhere around the middle of nowhere there was once a village. 

This village, while small, was lively, and its inhabitants were fiercely loyal to one another, always ready to defend their own from the dark and dangerous outside.

They did well, defending themselves from the wild magics rampant in the surrounding forests, until chimera moved into the territory.

In just four days a third of the village population had been slaughtered, including the village elder, and the people were well near hopelessness. 

In an act of desperation, the village elder’s son sought out the most powerful ally he could think of - a demon known as Deceit.

He went to the mouth of the cursed serpent’s lair and made an offer: his life, given freely, in exchange for protection for the village. 

Of course, it was well known to all the villagers that Deceit was confined to the caverns. No one knows exactly why - some said he had been imprisoned by an ancient wizard, other that the old gods of the forests had barred him from their realm - but however he got there, it was known that there was only one way to free him - Deceit needed a living host.

It was no surprise when Deceit accepted the young man’s offer, no, no surprise at all that the elder’s son, who loved his family and friends so dearly that he without hesitation drew his hunting knife across his palm, sealing the deal in blood.

What was a surprise, however, was that it was neither Deceit nor the elder’s son who walked away from that unearthly cave - but rather a whole new being, made up of jumbled bits both man and serpent.

True to the bargain, the village awoke the next morning to find the terrible chimera dead in front of the late elder’s house.

Deceit nor the elder’s son were never seen again by the villagers, and even generations later the village still wonders, if only distantly, what ever happened to the cursed serpent and young, selfless Janus Sanders.

\-------

Somewhere, in a slightly different middle of nowhere, there was also a village.

This village, however, was quite the opposite of the first - the inhabitants were competitive, angry, one man always determined to be better than another. Everything was a challenge, and not a friendly one either.

If something went missing, the whole village would be up in the chaos of circles of unbiased accusations. Something was broken, it was always someone else’s fault. So it goes without saying that when villagers started turning up dead, the hunt for the killer was anything but a civil affair.

Relatives of the deceased were blaming everyone including each other. Fingers were pointed, death threats were made, screaming and loathing and general mayhem all up until the next body surfaced, at which point everyone would stand a quiet moment or two in shock before it all started again.

The deaths steadily became more gruesome, to the point that, had the murders not been occuring all together, the killings would have been easily attributed to a ravaging woodland beast.

There was also the fact, of course, that wild animals didn’t generally kill people while they slept in their beds, in their homes, with the doors locked and the shutters closed.

The village’s numbers were being slowly whittled away at, and tensions only grew. Everyone was sure that if they looked closely enough, they would be able to spot which among them was the killer.

Thing is, though, it is rather hard to spot a killer when said killer does not know that they _are_ the killer.

Remy Dormance was young and quick-witted, and honestly a little brash, trusting of no one except his widowed mother, whose honor he was resolute on defending even physically.

Young Remy, exactly a month prior to the first murder (not that he was counting to realize this) had a somewhat nasty encounter with a wolf while out hunting during the night.

To anyone who knew anything about werewolves, the full moon overhead that night, the way the wolf’s coat glittered a little too brightly, the way the wolf was all alone instead of with a pack… well, it would have been obvious.

Remy, though, had only the faintest memory of such legends, little fragments of stories his father told him back when the man was still alive, and, evidently, those memories were not triggered by the attack.

A bite to his forearm - nothing too terrible, considering, after all, that the odds of him surviving to begin with had been pretty low. He had lodged his dagger in the beast’s chest and fled, and the wolf had not followed. His mother had cleaned and wrapped his wound, as well as cried a little, but after a few weeks it was little more than a bad memory.

It wasn’t until one full moon, in the midst of a particularly vicious storm, that Remy realized he was the killer haunting the village. 

A large limb had fallen and pierced a hole in the cottage roof, causing Remy and his mother to long miss their usual bedtime in favor of trying to patch the area.

Between the two of them they managed to finally get some boards across the main gap, and then they placed buckets under the remaining gaps, which they would have to work on once they could properly climb up on the roof.

It was going on midnight when Remy’s mother noticed the unnatural gleam in her son’s eyes, and she could only stare in horror as over the course of several minutes he morphed into a massive, menacing wolfish beast.

She watched the monster calmly leave the house. She waited, fearful, for its return, and after many hours fell asleep. When she awoke in the morning, it was to find Remy yawning and stretching in his bed as though nothing had happened, and within the hour the cries of murder arose across the village.

Terrified that the others would eventually discover what was really happening, she did her best to act normal, waiting until several days after the death to draw the curtains one evening and sit to tell her son what she had seen.

Remy was horrified, of course, and immediately began panicking, but his mother had already thought out what needed to be done. She gave him a bag she had already packed with food and other supplies, and told him to leave.

Leave, and never return. Find others like him, if he could. Learn how to survive - that was the one thing she asked of him. Survive, no matter what.

So, while the village slept that night, Remy fled the village, and began his search for the inhumans of the world.

And if his mother used one of his old shirts and some chicken’s blood to fake his death after he was gone… well, only she needed to know.


	2. Being Human

Remy had no idea how he kept getting into these situations, but he wished he did, because he really wanted it to stop happening.

Seriously. This was the third time in just a month on his own that he found himself surrounded by armed, angry villagers.

“Babes, really,” Remy stepped back as a pitchfork jabbed at his chest. It wouldn't be able to kill him, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt like a bitch. “I think we need to all just calm down and talk about things like-” he sidestepped a rusted shovel “-civilized people.”

“Monstrosity!” An elderly woman shrieked, throwing a rock with a thin, bony arm.

In Remy’s opinion, the only monstrosity present was her whiny attitude, but for his own safety he decided to keep that to himself.

He’d hoped that in venturing to a more rural town for supplies he could avoid anyone who would recognize the tells that marked him as inhuman, but it seemed he had bad luck.

Thankfully, while they knew he wasn’t human, they had no clue what he was, and so had no idea how to actually kill him, but that was only mildly comforting.

When Remy had woken up this morning, he had not anticipated being run through with gardening implements, and he’d like to keep to that expectation, thank you very much.

“Back, fiend!” A small man waved a broom in Remy’s direction, as if somehow that was intimidating. 

Geez, what did a werewolf have to do to just get some supplies these days?

He opened his mouth to - pointlessly - argue, but he was cut off by a shout half surprise and half pain.

Everyone looked to the sound, finding a well-dressed man standing a bit back from the group, leaning nonchalantly on an intricate wooden staff and looking back at them with half-lidded eyes. One of the villagers - a well-built man who  _ had _ been wielding a large axe - was lying unconscious in the dirt at his feet.

Remy blinked, unsure what to make of the turn of events. From the villager’s faces, the guy wasn’t anyone they had seen before either.

After a moment of shocked silence, the man adjusted his hat and shifted to lace his gloved fingers on top of his staff, raising a weary eyebrow. “Have I interrupted something?”

The villagers erupted in chaos, shouting and spinning back and forth, unsure who to point their weapons at now.

The man rolled his eyes, and raised a finger to his lips - the crowd fell immediately silent, eyes wide, lips trembling as if in resistance to some spell.

“Ah, much better.” The man straightened, stepping gracefully over the unconscious villager to look over the rest of the group with something akin to disdain. “Now, I think its time you left the young man be, hm? I don’t recall that he did anything to your little abode. Truly, so unsociable.”

Remy blinked again, reasonably very, very confused. “I uh… do I know you?”

The man finally looked to him, aloof expression breaking just momentarily with a soft smile. “I do not believe we’ve had the pleasure, no. I simply dislike groups with poor hospitality.” He snapped his fingers, and all at once the crowd dropped.

Remy jumped back as people and tools toppled in every direction, landing on the ground in a tangle of limbs and wooden handles and coats.

The man must have noticed Remy staring, because he waved his hand in a pacifying manner as he smoothed his shirtfront. “They’re not dead, if that’s what concerns you. Merely sleeping. I don’t have the patience for such insolence this early in the day.”

Remy swallowed, awkwardly adjusting his pack on his shoulder. “I uh… thanks? I mean, I sorta had it handled, but still.”

“Ah, they annoyed me.” The man shrugged and twirled his staff in his hand, turning to survey the buildings of the town. “I suppose you came here for supplies?”

“Yeah,” Remy picked his way through the tangle of villagers, doing his best not to smash anyone’s fingers. “Is that why you’re here?”

“Among other things.” The man tapped his fingers on his staff. “I am looking for something and hoped I might come across it in this area, but it seems not.”

“Well that’s a bitch.”

The man hummed.

Remy made it out of the collapsed crowd, and now that he was closer he could see the way the left half of the man’s face reflected the light, skin almost reptilian with a metallic sheen.

“Uh… may I ask what you’re looking for?” Remy queried. That wasn’t a weird way to start a conversation, right?

The man didn’t seem bothered, at least, only tilting his head slightly. “I seem to have misplaced a tower.”

“A tower? How do you misplace- uh, you know what, I’m not sure I want to know.”

The man’s lips twitched. “Probably for the best. It is a rather complicated story.” He turned on his heel, holding out his hand to Remy. “I’m Janus.”

“Remy,” Remy said automatically, shaking the hand. “I don’t think I’ve met anyone like you before. How’d you do that with the people? They just kinda… fell over?”

“Also a complicated story.” Janus gave a little laugh, but it sounded surprisingly genuine. “Let’s just say I asked them to go to sleep and they just couldn’t resist.”

Remy nodded, deciding this was just another thing he wouldn’t be thinking too hard about for his own sanity. “Noted.” He turned to join Janus in looking over the village. “Now what?”

“Now,” Janus pursed his lips. “We get what we came for, and be on our merry way.”

“We-what?” Remy stared as Janus started towards the vacant village shop. “Wait, we can’t just take stuff!”

“You can leave your coins if it makes you feel better.” Janus swung the shop door open, hanging on the handle momentarily to lean back and look at Remy. “I do suggest you hurry, though. My influence can only hold so long over a group of this many.”

“I-”

Janus had disappeared from view, and Remy spent nearly a full minute just looking at the half-open door, as if somehow it would tell him what to do next.

Well, to be fair, Janus had already told him what to do next.

He finally moved, entering the shop against his better judgment.

Janus was behind the counter, concentrated scowl on his face as he examined the dried herbs stored there. He gave Remy a glance as he came in but said nothing.

Well, his existence was already illegal, may as well commit some actual crimes while he was at it.

Remy slung his pack off his shoulder and opened it, sifting through the contents to remind himself of what he needed. He’d only been going to get a few things, not having much money, but if he was stealing he might as well steal everything he required.

Within a few minutes he’d added a spool of fishing wire, a fresh torch, several containers of preserved berries, a length of wool and some thread - he could use a new cloak, what could he say - and a small carving knife to his pack.

He tied it back closed and stood, swinging it over his shoulder once more.

Janus had pushed his cloak back so he could gently tuck handfuls of obscure herbs into a small leather pouch on his hip. The herbs were followed by matches and a misshapen little block of salt. Janus fastened the pouch closed and shifted his cloak back into place, apparently deciding that was all he wanted.

It was odd, sure, but Remy wasn’t about to judge him. He’d seen weirder.

They left the shop in silence, but Remy paused outside the door, still touched by a splash of guilt.

Janus turned back after a few steps, and sighed. “...you’re a werewolf, yes?”

Remy started. “I- yes? Why?”

“You were human once.” Janus said. “You feel guilty taking from people who, though you dislike, you understand. You don’t like playing the monster, no matter how much they expect it of you.”

Well, he wasn’t  _ wrong _ , but did he have to say it out loud like that?

Remy just shrugged in response.

“I was human too.” Janus offered a smile. “It takes time to remember the humans you knew and loved aren’t represented by the rest of the species. You’re allowed to be the monster, you know. You’re allowed to stop being human.”

There was a long moment where their gazes locked, charged with some emotion Remy couldn’t quite name, but left a fervid white heat burning steady behind his lower ribs, right underneath his lungs.

It was Janus who finally looked away, turning his head to the pile of villagers, some of whom were starting to twitch.

“I suppose we should continue on our journeys.” Janus said. “They will be up in a few minutes.”

Remy nodded. The flame was still burning beneath his lungs, a newfound energy source that purged any lingering uncertainty from his veins. “Probably a good idea.”

Janus rearranged his cloak on his shoulders and then turned back towards Remy, tipping his hat slightly. “Safe travels, then, Remy.”

Remy inclined his head in return, giving a little wave. “And you, Janus. Good luck finding your tower.”

A ghost of a grin touched the edge of Janus’s mouth, and in the next breath the man had spun on his heel, sweeping away towards the trees with otherworldly grace.

Remy drew in a breath and hefted his pack higher on his shoulder.

Some of the villagers were beginning to properly stir, and he should get ahead while he could.

_ You’re allowed to stop being human. _

Maybe he’d been going about this the wrong way.

He’d spent the last month focused solely on keeping moving, not really thinking about direction other than ‘away’. He’d been struggling to keep it together, to survive, but that was because he was in human territory.

He needed to find others like him.

“Well then,” He set his jaw and set his eyes to the south - the wild, dangerous, go too far and you’ll probably end up dead south. “I guess it’s time to stop being human.”


End file.
